


Open Your Eyes

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [34]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine being Bilbo's younger sister and sometime along the journey Dwalin decides to try and court you. At first you don't realize it until a certain meddling wizard decides to step in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Your Eyes

Why had you agreed to go on this stupid, ridiculous journey in stead of your stubborn brother? You grumbled as yet again you scratched at the bug bite that threatened to swell up your arm. Since the rain had begun, any encampment that was relatively dry and been swarming with insects.

And that meant that you were subjected to all of the bites that didn’t go through the dwarves’ thick coats. At least you weren’t wearing the skirts you had run out of the Shire with. That was a change to your lifestyle that you now were extremely welcoming to. You did not want to be scratching your ankles from atop a pony.

The insist for the exchange of clothes had come from Dwalin during a brief stop in Bree. He insisted that skirts were impractical on the road if you were to outrun any Orc alive. You had not hesitated once you heard that living or dying was the result of your answer.

You groaned in frustration as you scratched at the thin tunic you had bargained for, and did little to relieve the itch that rested underneath.

“Scratching it makes it worse,” a gruff voice spoke up behind you. You turned sharply, startled, but when you saw it was just the grumpy, severe dwarf, you gave him a small smile and settled back down.

“There’s absolutely nothing else to occupy my time, so since I cannot fall asleep, I will scratch until I no longer feel the need to.” You punctuated your sentence by spitting as you felt like a bug had flown into your mouth. It was the least attractive way to end your stubborn sentence. But one that had the severe dwarf chuckling all the same.

You flushed, and crossed your arms while you waited for him to stop, discreetly knocking away a few more that threatened to be swallowed as well. “Well, lass, I don’t know about how much that bugs ye, but I know a thing or two about boredom. Have to when your brother recites the history of the Iron Hills like a bedtime story.” You giggled, and glanced to him as he settled down beside you. “So, what can I do fer ye?”

You held his gaze for a second before looking under the overhead shelter, seeing the heavy rainfall soak the ponies and the already wet blankets for the night. “Oh, I don’t think anything, really. It’s just when it gets dark and the day’s over, I realize that I’m another day away from home.” Dwalin nodded as if he understood. “I miss the flowers, I think. Us hobbit rather like flowers and food, you know. Comforts.” You gave a soft smile. “But there aren’t any flowers I this weather. And my hair hangs in my face for every meal because of this downpour. You’d think Gandalf would have enough magic to keep us dry, truly-”

“I could take care of your hair for you. Got a few extra hair beads… I won’t be needing them, but the others … well, with Fili and Kili murking around, can’t be too prepared,” Dwalin explained. You glanced to him in surprise, before giving him a grateful smile.

“Would you? Oh, you’re the greatest, Dwalin, truly.”

His cheeks flushed, but you took it for the humid heat under the trees. It was making you feel rather warm, as well. You could imagine what a sight you looked. Hair unbrushed because of the inability to do so, wearing men’s clothing, and drenched to the bone.

“Aye, I’ll be right back, lass.” You heard him lumber off, and a few hushed voices, before Dwalin was back at your side, holding out three beads in his hand. They were silver, with the same markings etched into them as the tattoos atop his head and stretched across his knuckles. “Oh, they’re lovely, thank you for letting me borrow them.” His answer smile was small, but one that insisted it was nothing. His beefy fingers closed around them and he gave you an expectant look. One you gave him a confused one in return for.

“You’ll need to turn if I’m to pull your hair back.”

“Oh! Silly me, forgive me.” You adjusted in the only patch of dry grass you had found, until your back was to him. And the hand of the metal beads was held out in front of you, bringing Dwalin close to you.

“You’ll need to hold them so that I can use my hands.”

“Right, of course.” You took them quickly, and held your breath for a second to calm down the jittery-ness you felt. Honestly, there was no reason to feel such. His fingers were gentle as they lifted your wet hair and began to untangle it with his fingers. And as he finished a section, you could feel him slowly wrapping it together until it was a braid.

“A bead, please.”

At least he had manners. Some of the dwarves were hardly someone a conversation could be held with without a stiff smile as you struggled to find a way to exit. They were just so loud and obnoxious… well, not all of them. Dwalin, and his elder brother Balin, were sociable. Balin was certainly warmer than Dwalin, but Dwalin was one you felt you were closer to. He rode his pony beside yours, seemed to keep an eye out on the horizons for any danger. He was a protector. A warrior.

You passed him a bead and felt a gentle tug as he secured it into place.

“What do the markings on them mean?” you asked as your thumb ran over one of them.

He was silent a moment as he began to work on another section of hair, this time underneath, and you waited patiently. When he answers, his tone was quiet, soft, and almost as if he was lost in his head. “Protection. Stealth. Strength. Sign of a warrior.”

“Oh… I hope that I’m not dishonoring any dwarf traditions by wearing them, then. I’m not really a warrior. Two left feet, really. And I can barely life my bag without tripping in the mud because of its weight.” He chuckled. “I don’t know why you insisted on so many provisions.”

“Yer a lass. Lasses carry an abundance of things. They also get quite irritable when hungry.” You felt yourself flush. You weren’t really that irritable, were you? You had tried to keep your complaining to a minimum, as it was obvious by the way Thorin spoke of you, that he did not care for you to accompany them. Nor did he seem to care if you suddenly left. You were to far from home to know your way back now. The mountains were only a few days away, and then it would be the point of no return.

“I do hope I haven’t been complaining too much.”

“We all miss home. No one minds it when ye get home sick.” You chewed on your lip, and when he requested another bead, passed it to him silently. “But to answer yer question, or what ye intended to be a question, ye’ve complained less than the King’s nephews, and that’s a great compliment.”

You giggled and felt him begin to twist your hair once more, before the last bead was requested and placed in your hair. “Thank you,” you said quietly when he declared it done. You reached up to touch it gently finding that he had not only gotten it out of your eyes, but braided it up so that it wouldn’t drip down your back either. It was exactly what you had needed. “Oh, I’m sure it’s absolutely stunning,” you said softly, as you glanced to Dwalin. “I never learned how to braid. My mother died when I was very young, and … well, my father and Bilbo were useless when it came to that.” You gave him a bright smile. “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, as if something was stuck in it. “Anytime.” And you smiled more before glancing to the ponies once more. “Get some rest, you’ll be needing it.”

“I will,” you sighed. “Just a moment longer.”

He merely nodded and returned to camp. You sat still and once his footsteps faded, your hand reached up and gently touched the hair neatly clipped together. He always seemed to know what was more practical. You heard the sounds of hoots of cries and surged to your feet, following Dwalin’s path back to the company.

Panting, you asked, in concern. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing short of wonderful, lass,” Balin said warmly.

You frowned in confusion. “Has something important happened? Have Fili and Kili finally grown out of their pranks?”

Balin chuckled, and stepped towards you, making you even more aware that the Company was staring at you. “Oh, lass, you know. Wonderful things-” You blinked as he stopped himself and stared at you. And then he seemed to catch himself on something, giving you an almost sad smile. “Aye, lass, Fili and Kili have vowed to stop their pranks. How long that lasts, however, we’ve yet to see.” Perhaps he had thought of something he had seen years ago. But either way, you let the subject drop as you glanced back towards the Company, who were all busying themselves with something. And you simply shrugged.

“I give them a week.”

It wasn’t until the freezing mountains that he offered you his coat and a warm seat by the fire, as any gentledwarf would do when a hobbit was sitting there with blue lips and numb fingers. And though you had insisted that he keep his coat, lest he get cold himself, he merely chuckled and promised you that dwarves didn’t get cold like the fair hobbits seemed to. None the less, he sat beside you as you curled up in the massive fur-lined coat, smelling of tobacco and the road, and proved to be a wonderful pillow when you eventually fell asleep.

Reaching the other side of the mountain after the run in with the goblins, Dwalin stuck close. “Can’t have ye disappearing again, lass.”

You had not spoken of the creature in the deep of the mountain that had lost its treasure – a treasure which had found its way in your pocket. And you did not speak of the riddles that you had been forced to answer to save your own life. The Orcs were testament enough to how wary it was necessary to be.

But you appreciated Dwalin’s company because he always seemed ready with a conversation should you need one. If the road wasn’t full of obnoxious dwarves, then it was full of sullen ones. You had walked off to bathe one morning in the wooden land that surrounded you for days now, and when you returned to the Company, Dwalin saddled over to you with a grin.

“What happened?” you asked, carefully touching your hair in worry. Had you done something to your hair? It was still in braids – braids that Dwalin happily re-did every time they came loose, but he merely bowed when he was a few steps away, and pulled a flower from behind his back.

You stared at him in surprise, before you took the flower. “Oh, Dwalin, it’s beautiful!”

“Comforts of home,” he stated.

You had not thought he would remember that conversation, but you were pleasantly surprised. You sniffed the flower and sighed quietly as it reminded you of the days you would spend in the garden under the hill, growing your mother’s perennials as the season bloomed. “Oh, these are some of my favorites. Wherever did you find this?” He made a gesture to the left and you followed the direction until you spotted dense trees and a rare flower or two poking out of the brush.

“First life we’ve run into on this journey that hasn’t looked like it was either Elven or Godforsaken.”

“Thank you,” you insisted. “Really, you are a dear friend. And this is wonderful. It means so much.”

His grin faltered slightly, and you, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why it would be. “Right, then, I had best be washin’ up or the orcs will sure find us.” You laughed quietly, watching him walk off, before you twirled the flower in your hands and moved towards the campfire. Gandalf was sitting beside the only available one, and so you sat beside the wizard, staring at the golden flower.

“Ah, and who has given you such a gift?”

“Dwalin found a few flowers, and remembered a conversation I had with him months ago,” you responded to the wizard almost immediately. “Flowers remind me of home.”

“Well, it is about time you’ve accepted a gift from him while seeing the intentions.” You blinked in confusion and glanced up at the tall wizard.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Surely he didn’t mean… Dwalin was your best friend on this voyage. There was no more intentions than friendship. You were certain.

“Well, he’s been trying for months now. First with Bree, then with the braids – courting tradition for dwarves you know. I’ve, quite honestly, never seen a dwarf try so hard to win a female’s affection.” Gandalf must have seen your alarmed expression because he huffed. “Well, don’t tell me that you’ve only spurned the dwarf again? If you do not care for his affections, then you must tell him so. But it is very rude to string someone along-”

“I didn’t know this was all…” You touched your hair in alarm. “He’s been trying to court me this entire time? I thought he was just being friendly!”

Gandalf sighed. “Dwarvish courting customs are to impress the woman, while also make them happy. He foresaw that you’d be uncomfortable in a dress, and made an effort to keep you happy in the long run. And the flowers, well, you told him they made you happy, did you not?” You nodded slowly. “And braids, well, those are dwarf tradition, to be worn by someone they fancy.” You blinked and touched your hair again, worriedly. “Added to the fact that he gave you his father’s own beads that his mother gave him for safe keeping, it wasn’t just getting hair out of your eyes.” You had no idea they had meant that much to him. “He asked me about hobbit courting habits, to perhaps appeal to your side, and when I told him that hobbits often gave one another flowers, it was, apparently, the first thing he did here.”

“But… I had no idea-”

“Well, if you return the feelings, I’d hurry along and catch him.”

“What? Now?” you gasped.

“No time like the present,” Gandalf insisted. “Go on.”

Right. Now. Go. You hopped to your feet, the grip on the flower incredibly tight, and rushed off towards where Dwalin had disappeared. Thankfully, he had not begun washing, but was only hanging his heavy coat on a tree. “Dwalin!” you called. He spun in surprise, and looked upon you with confusion as you emerged from the brush.

“Y/N? What on earth are you doing-?”

“Is what Gandalf says true?” you rushed out. You gestured to the flower in your hands, the stem already wilting, but you had a feeling that had to do with the fact that you couldn’t grip it any tighter. Your brain wasn’t listening to you. “All this time – the braids, the flower – you’ve been trying to court me?”

Dwalin glanced off to the trees where you had come from, as if cursing everyone back there, before he heaved a heavy sigh. “Aye.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked quietly, stepping closer. Somehow, knowing that it was true, took away all of your nerves. “I had no idea.”

“I… was a coward.”

“A coward?” you repeated skeptically. You rolled your eyes, giving a laugh. “You are the least cowardly of all of the dwarves, Dwalin. I’ve heard stories of you in battle from the others, and from yourself.”

“Aye, a coward. A coward for ye.” Oh, you melted. You were quite sure of it, because your shoulders dropped and your smile was effortless as you gave a soft sigh. “Do anything for ye, but the moment it came to speaking to ye, I didn’t know a tree from a stone. And once I knew ye didn’t know anythin’ of dwarf culture, though I don’t know why I thought ye might in the first place, I couldn’t muster up the courage to explain what it all was about.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you stepped closer. You were only feet from each other now, and you could see the thick hair on his chest peeking out from the top of his untied tunic. Your gaze, perhaps, lingered a little longer than was proper, so you glanced away with red cheeks and cleared your throat. “I had an interest in you from the moment you showed up at my home. Hobbits value punctuality, you know, and you were the first to arrive to a time I knew not of, but that was punctuality, at least. We also value politeness, which you are rather good at. I can’t say the same for a few others in this Company. And kindness. I did not think dwarves were attracted to women that weren't… well, dwarves themselves.” You glanced back to him, and he was frowning now. “I think it’s the hair. I’ve no beard, in case you’ve failed to notice.”

He chuckled, his features relaxing. “Well, I’ve hardly any hair myself.”

Oh, he had plenty. But you laughed quietly as his effort at a joke, and touched the petals of the flower in your hand gently. “I’m sorry I hadn’t opened my eyes and noticed that you were attempting to court me.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright, lass.”

“Y/N. It’s my name, and you’re more than welcome to use it.”

“Y/N.” You felt your cheeks flush slightly at the warm caress in which he spoke it, his thick accent making it sound like a poem.

“If you still wish to court… I… I would accept it.”

When you glanced back up, he was grinning now, positively delighted. “Aye?”

“Yes,” you answered warmly.

“Oh, I’m quite honored, lass.” He winced slightly. “Y/N.” You laughed and when he bowed, he took your free hand, giving it a gentle kiss across your knuckles.

“Now, I don’t know anything about dwarf courting, so you’ll have to enlighten me.”

Dwalin gave a nod. “Gladly.”

He didn’t release your hand from his grip and you bit your lip as you coyly asked, “And what is the courting rules for kissing?”

Dwalin’s eyebrows skyrocketed up his forehead. “Well, that’s up for the lass to decide, you see. Dwarrowdams are rare, and no dwarf in their right mind would do anything to scare them off.” You raised an eyebrow. “And though yer not a dwarrowdam, I spend every minute prayin’ I’m in my right mind.”

You hummed, and he quickly continued, as if he had offended you. “But I still find you acceptable – even more acceptable than a dwarrowdam, to spend the rest of my life with.”

That alone made you pause. You glanced down and he released your hand, only for it to gently touch your chin, lifting up your gaze. “What’s the matter? Second thoughts already?”

“I… I’m not a dwarf, and while you say it doesn’t matter… I will die within the next seventy years, and Thorin’s already in his two hundreds… and I know you’re quite far behind him…” He frowned slightly. “Not to mention, we belong on opposite sides of Middle Earth. The Shire’s my home.”

“As Ered Luin’s mine. Tis not too far from the Shire. I dare say, the Shire could be a nice change of pace.”

You blinked rapidly. “You would… you would live in the Shire?”

“Oh, aye. I’d do anythin’.” You didn’t have words. “I’d live wherever ye wanted to. The Misty Mountains, Mordor, go so far as to say Rivendell, as long as I get some meat.” You laughed quietly, amused. “I’ve spent a lot of these last few months thinkin’ about it. I’d live there, with your brother if you’d want, or in our own little place. I’d work in a smithy, do odd jobs here or there to keep food on our table… Whatever you’d like.”

“But.. your brother. Your friends and family. Don’t you want to stay near them?”

“There’s nothing against visiting every few years, I’d reckon. Either they to us, or us to them. A little adventure.” You smiled as your gaze dropped to the hand on your chin, and it moved so that it cupped your cheek. The rough callouses from years of hard work and swordplay and battle were comforting, despite being so foreign to you. “If we can manage it. But otherwise, there’s nothing a few letters can’t gap. I went on this quest knowing what I could lose, but I’ll be damned if I lose ye most of all.”

You had never heard such sweeter words in your life. You bit your lip again, meeting his eyes. “I’ll definitely be taking that kiss now.”

He gave a gruff laugh, before his hand lifted your chin. And then you were suddenly encased in your dwarf, and you did not open your eyes until your lungs screamed for air.


End file.
